After the shave and washing my face, I swipe a hand over my head while the other rests on the mirror.
I’ve got this. No biggie. Just another game. Do what I do, and we got this.
A handful of games down, shutout still going, and, at this point, whether it’s this Arizona team or some other squad, I know they’re hungry to get a ball past me. To not let some freshman goalkeeper of a team that’s suddenly getting all this talk show them up. And it makes me nervous. So, so incredibly nervous. That nausea from my first game is lingering, even after a phone call with Pops that was nothing other than reassuring. My mind’s still heavy with the thought of how I’ve got so much to prove every second I’m on the field. How I don’t want to disappoint him or my team.
I grab my phone, Young Miko playing loudly from it, and I type,I’m nervous, sending it to someone who will hopefully get me. He’ll know where I’m coming from.
You need me to come over? Talk it out?Barrera sends back only seconds later.
I take a breath, giving it a short moment of thought before texting,No, it’s okay. I just needed to get the words out. Ididn’t want to keep them held in. But if you’ve got any of that encouragement around, I could use some.
Another minute goes by before a voice message from him comes in. “I told you, I’ll always be around to encourage and push you, little bro. Just breathe. Let those nerves turn into focus, alright? You know how to play this game. How to keep your body between the ball and the net. You’ve been doing everything I asked, and I’m going to make sure the rest of the team is doing their job, which is making yours as boring as possible.”
I let out a chuckle, walking out of the bathroom and falling onto my bed. “You have my word, Piña; keep giving me a hundred, and there’s no way your shutout’s going anywhere. You’re golden, kid, and you’re going to help us get another win today. Breathe. You can do this.”
I can do this.
I know what I’m doing.
Take those nerves and let them become focus. Excitement. This team’s going to give me their best because they know how good I am. How good we all are. And I shouldn’t want anything less than their best. Swallow down that bile and only think about the pride I’m going to feel when I leave the stadium with another ninety minutes added to my shutout. Another tally toward greatness and the National Championship game.
My kit’s laid out nearby on the mattress, ready for me to get dressed. I start with chonies and shorts, pulling them on before catching myself in the huge full-length mirror in our room and thinking … yeah, I bet Leana would appreciate a picture. A thank-you for the selfie she sent me this morning before the run I didn’t get to join her for that had me defiling a hand towel before getting ready to leave (and, actually—fuckme—I think I left it on my bed).
Forgetting the rest of my uniform for a minute, I grab my phone and pull a chair over to sit down and snap a picture,making sure to get how the shorts gather up on my thighs that are looking extra good this season and the boys in between, showing a little bit of the performance boxer briefs at the leg openings. Maybe I could add something like “Can’t wait for you to treat me like your chair tomorrow night.” And when I stand back up, I might be trying to flex my abs and arms. Show off a little, remind her that her goalkeeper’s getting jacked. Comes in handy for this position. I’ve got a reason to put on some mass while the rest of the squad is doing another ninety minutes of cardio. Arms matter for me, and if they also get me attention, I can’t help but embrace that.
“These are some good-ass selfies,” I say as I flip through them. Not to suck my own dick, but, damn, I’m a catch. I go to my texts and the first name after Barrera (because I’d have to go into hiding if I accidentally sent these to him), picking out a few of the best ones, adding the chair line, and hitting Send to—
Wait. Leana wasn’t the person I last talked to besides Cap.
“Oh, fuck.”
I only typeI didn’t mean to sebefore getting a text back from Vale.
I have never been more thankful for someone making soccer shorts look like rugby shorts. Feel extremely encouraged to wear those to our tutoring session Sunday.
One of my hands slides down my face as I let out a groan. Can’t swipe away the smirk though. Boy thinks he’s funny. And, honestly, I’ve got an older pair just like these. Icouldtell him sure, absolutely. Can’t give him everything he wants right away though.SHUT UPPPP. Also, you’re into rugby?
All I know is these hot, muscular Australian guys started showing up on my social media and I was not mad about it.
I let out apshh, rolling my eyes.Rugby guys are overrated. Let me find out that’s your type.
They aren’t not. But back to the topic are those shorts a size too small? Like, they are HUGGING EVERYTHING very much in a way that’s going to make me religious again.
It’s science that a 5 inch inseam makes me better. 3? Forget about it. I’m unbeatable.
So your dick fighting its way out your shorts makes you, like, Hulk as an athlete?
I let out a breathy laugh, smiling at my phone.Exactly you get it.
And what’s the excuse for literally the other half of your life when you aren’t playing soccer?
I do it just for you, I tell him, sending a winky face that gets one of those exclamation reactions, smiling at my phone screen and biting down on my lip.And don’t pretend you aren’t rocking them too. I see you knowing exactly what some of those shorts you got do to your ass. Probably get all the guys’ attention. Anyway didn’t mean to send those to you but you’re welcome. And if we don’t ever have to talk about that chair line I’d be really thankful.
Perfect. Then I don’t have to talk about how that line had me snail trailing across the shop.
I laugh, shaking my head.I’ll leave you to clean that up. I got to finish getting ready for this game now so I’ll talk to you later. See you in a couple days.
Praying that you make this mistake again, he sends.Thank you for your service. And forgive me for zooming in. I had a moment of weakness.And then—Y buena suerta. You’re going to do great. Rooting for you from Corpus Christi.And, nearly a minute later—Also, I can totally delete those pictures from our texts if you want. At least, I think I can. I don’t want you to feel weird about it.
